


When the Sun Comes Home

by anyalyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, also i don't mention eileen in this but know shes alive and with sam, fuck 15x20 all my homies hate 15x20, no blurry faced wives allowed, semi-betad we die like men, tell me if this should be GA i just guessed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27750361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyalyn/pseuds/anyalyn
Summary: In which Cas sends a risky text and has to face the consequences.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 85





	When the Sun Comes Home

**Author's Note:**

> Sup, I haven't watched an episode of Supernatural since halfway through season 10 but damn did 15x18 draw me back in and ruin my life.
> 
> I know there's dozens of fix-its now (which is good!!) but I thought of this in the shower and had to write it to get it out of my head.

Not all exits are made equal—Dean’s experienced enough of them to know that intimately. 

This isn’t the first time he’s lost Cas. It’s certainly not the most violent way his angel’s gone either. Wings of ash burned into concrete will haunt Dean the rest of his days but watching a knock-off of Marvel’s Venom swallow Cas whole didn’t quite have the same effect. The whole experience had felt more like a fever dream, the normal weight of grief settling in more slowly than before.

But, Dean supposes, it’s not really the method that’s bothering him so much, is it? 

No, it’s the finality.

Dean knows enough about the Empty to understand it’s not something you come back from (and yes, he see’s the irony in saying this as a man once lost to hell and purgatory).

The last conversation he had with Cas runs on a continual loop in his mind, causing a mixture of steady guilt and a despair thick enough to fill his lungs. He hadn’t been expecting Cas to say any of that then, not with their deaths imminent. He had certainly hadn’t expected a…a conf—

Well. 

He hadn’t expected it. 

And now he has to live with that, a response he hadn’t choked out fast enough destined to burn against his throat for the rest of his life. 

He can’t say it isn’t nice to sometimes imagine a flood of liquid void exploding from the wall and taking him whole.

Sam knows there’s something Dean isn’t telling him about Cas’ death. Dean knows that Sam knows, because why else would they go to Ohio for a pie festival? 

It’s beautiful. Dean has to secretly wipe at one eye as Sam leads them over to the first stall. Dean loses track of how many samples he tries, doing his best to ignore the looks his little brother keeps sending him as he studies the full slice options.

They end up at one of the picnic tables set up in the middle of the road, Dean with a hearty slice of blueberry and Sam tucking into a classic apple. Despite the act of scarfing down fresh pie, Dean can still feel his brother watching him. 

“What, Sam?” he asks, voice muffled around a particularly large bite. Sam scowls at the crumbs that escape but doesn’t hesitate to immediately betray Dean.

“I’m worried about you,” Sam says, meeting Dean’s eyes as he tilts his head back to visibly swallow. 

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’ve spent the last two months moping around the bunker. I know it’s hard with Cas gone; I miss him too. But this isn’t you. You haven’t even mentioned looking for him.”

“Because I’m not,” Dean says, setting his fork down. Sam makes a noise of surprise around his own bite of pie, raising an eyebrow.

“There’s no point, Sammy. There’s no coming back from the Empty.”

“Don’t people say that about purgatory? And death? He’s come back before, so why not now?”

“’Cause Chuck’s gone. We got out of those situations ‘cause he needed us. Jack’s family but he’s hands off.”

“Have you even asked?” 

Dean stays quiet, staring down at his plate as he debates answering. Because he hasn’t asked. He wants to, of course he does, but Jacks busy and it’s way too soon to blatantly ignore the kids requests.

Or maybe Dean’s just too afraid of Jack’s answer. 

“I’m getting more pie,” Dean says, instead of that, getting up from the table as Sam sighs.

A week later finds Dean sat in the bunker with his arms crossed and a scowl etched into his face. Standing on the opposite side of the table is Sam, mirroring his brother’s appearance.

Things have been a bit tense since they got back from Ohio, what with Dean being put under Sam-Ordered house arrest. The younger hadn’t been happy with how their conversation at the pie festival went. He was even less happy about Dean almost taking himself out on a rusty nail while fighting a bunch of vampire clowns on the way home.

There had been a long lecture about focus and recklessness and dealing with grief on the drive back to the bunker that Dean had barely paid attention to. Sam had made a point of reiterating that lecture every day since, but Dean can’t say he remembers any of what his brothers said.

“Dean.”

“Sam.”

“Don’t Sam me, you know why I’m upset.”

“So I almost got lightly stabbed by a nail, so what? I’ve gotten way worse injuries on hunts and you know it,” Dean says, shrugging. Sam sighs for what Dean thinks may actually be the thousandth time.

“I’m not upset about that; I’m worried about how reckless you were during that fight. I’m worried about how you’ve been sitting in the same chair every day this week. I’m worried, Dean, because I’ve seen you grieve before and you’ve never been like this!” Sam has unfolded his arms now, moving forward to rest the palms of his hands on the table.

“I’ve seen you grieve Cas before,” he continues, voice a bit quieter, “and you’ve never been this…detached. I know there’s stuff you aren’t telling me about his death. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Dean replies, pointedly looking anywhere that wasn’t Sam’s face. 

“Dean.”

Dean stays silent as Sam continues to try and stare him down, the old wall clock seeming to tick louder with each moment. 

“Fine,” Sam says finally, throwing his arms up, “Don’t tell me. You can go through it with a therapist later.”

“A what—”

“But you’re talking to Jack. I won’t let you waste away in the bunker anymore.”

“Jack won’t—”

“You don’t know that,” Sam snaps, spinning back to look at Dean instead of the bookshelf he had turned to in exasperation, “Jack may very well make an exception. Hell, he might not even consider this an exception. You won’t know until you ask.”

Dean stays quiet, gaze trained on the table where his arms are now leaning, his fingers tapping against the polished wood. 

“At least consider it? Please.”

“Fine.”

Dean, despite telling himself he would wait, ends up in That Room that evening. He hasn’t been in here since that day, and he honestly feels sort of sick being back. But he had promised Sam he’d at least consider contacting Jack and for some reason, this feels like the best place to do it.

He isn’t sure what to say though.

“Uh, hey, Jack,” he starts, eyes squeezed shut and hands held loosely in front of him, “It’s uh, been a bit, huh? Or, well, I guess not that long. We miss ya down here, bud. The bunker’s quieter without you.”

Dean pauses, trying to figure out how to even segue into his question, when someone clears their throat. His eyes snap back open to see Jack standing a few feet in front of him, smiling, his hand held up to the side in an unmoving wave.

“Hey, Dean,” he says, sounding much happier than Chuck ever did.

“Hey, kid,” Dean replies, bringing his right hand up in a returning wave, “I wasn’t really expecting that to work so fast. Or maybe at all.” 

Jack lets out a small huff that Dean thinks could be classified as a laugh. “You’re family. I was planning on trying to visit soon anyway. But I know what you want to ask about and I wasn’t about to make you wait.”

“You do? Wait, of course you do, you’re God. Right, well—”

“He’s already back,” Jack interrupts, Dean stiffening as the air whooshes out of his lungs.

“Back? You—you’re talking about Cas, right?”

“Yes, I’m talking about Cas. I meant to let you know in person, but time moves a bit slower in Heaven than it does here. I wasn’t aware of that, sorry.” Dean shakes his head, moving his hand to wave off Jack’s apology. The kid was God now, he didn’t need to look so sad about that.

“So he’s not in the Empty.”

“Right.”

“Where—where is he?”

“Well, I suppose he’s in Heaven. He’s been helping me rebuild it, but I told him he could visit Earth anytime he wanted. Maybe he lost track of time too.”

Dean nods, knowing that Cas absolutely did not lose track of time.

“If you call for him, he’ll hear you,” Jack says, kind smile moving into grin territory as he takes a small step back, “Good luck, Dean.”

Jack is gone before Dean can even think of saying thanks, which is fine because he’s already starting a new prayer to an angel about to get the lecture of a lifetime.

“Cas, Jack told me you’re back. That you’re in Heaven. And I’m telling you now that if you don’t get your feathery ass down here right this—” 

“Dean.”

Dean stops breathing for a moment, fists clenched tight, terrified to open his eyes.

“Dean?”

Dean lets out a slow, steadying breath, preparing for the worst. Maybe Lucifer didn’t actually die and had weaseled his way inside. Or maybe they had never defeated Chuck and this was all some huge—

“Dean!”

Dean opens his eyes and there’s Cas, looking exactly as he did before the Empty took him. Rumpled trench coat, 5 o’clock shadow, bright blue eyes that look…scared?

“Cas,” Dean whispers, blinking a few times to make sure the angel didn’t vanish on him. Cas starts to speak, a nervous energy spilling out with an apology Dean doesn’t want to hear, so he cuts it off.

He reaches Cas in two steps, pulling the angel close, hands fisted in the back of his trench coat.

“I love you,” Dean says, and Cas goes still for a moment.

“You…you love me?” Cas repeats, hands hovering over Dean’s back but not quite touching. 

“Yeah, Cas. I love you,” Dean pulls Cas in just a little closer, the angel moving to return the embrace, “You can have me. You’ve always had me.”

Cas lets out a little strangled noise before burying his nose in Dean’s jacket, his shoulders shaking. Dean holds him through it, his own tears dampening his angel’s trench coat.

“What now?” Cas croaks when they finally lean back to look at each other. Dean smiles at him, reaching up to wipe away at the tear tracks left there, before cupping Cas’ face. 

“Well, I’ve heard we’re allowed to do whatever we want now. Maybe it’s time I take an early retirement and we see what this free will is all about, huh?”

Cas positively beams, placing his hands over Dean’s where they’re still cupping his face. He slides his fingers under Deans to gently pull his hands away, still holding onto them, and leans in close, their lips brushing as he speaks.

“I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Screw canon, my love Cas deserved so much better. So did Dean. And literally everyone else.
> 
> Cas definitely held off on talking to Dean cause he didn't think he'd have to face his actions. It's okay bud, we've all been there. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading if you made it here! I hope I did okay with Jack, I've never seen the episodes he's in. Also I know nothing about Eileen except that she's cool and was done dirty. She's with Sam in this, it just didn't come up how I planned it to.
> 
> If you're interested, I'm on tumblr as apeurture. I'm not an SPN blog anymore but I am steadily going more feral with each new piece of information.


End file.
